


Just Enough

by hopefulundertone



Series: I Am You [1]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angsty-ish, Clara (mention), Doctor-cest, M/M, Paradox, Post-50th Anniversary, Post-Day of the Doctor, War Doctor (mention), i guess?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-18
Updated: 2014-04-18
Packaged: 2018-01-19 20:40:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1483141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopefulundertone/pseuds/hopefulundertone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the War Doctor leaves, and Clara goes to visit the Curator, the Tenth Doctor demands to know what happens to his companions. The Eleventh Doctor can't tell him, and time is collapsing around them again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Enough

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys  
> My first fic, comments appreciated!

Time

 

Time. He can feel it cracking around him, pain shivering up his spine as he stares down at his younger regeneration. The Tardises are trying their best to sustain the paradox, but he can already feel the universei unravelling, he can feel his timeline dissolving bit by bit, starting from his most recent memories. His younger self is also feeling the effects, but there's a regeneration's worth of memories and experiences between them, so although he can see Ten pressing his lips together tightly, it's nothing compared to what he's feeling.   
The universe is lashing out violently, reminding him that this isn't right, that it wasn't possible- And yet they are alone together in the gallery, Clara with the curator, the third of their ranks long gone. He glances down, at the hand that is currently being held in a vice-like grip by none other than a younger him. Contact, even the slightest touch, increases the magnitude of the paradox hundredfold, and his head pounds heavily.   
He meets Ten's eyes through the growing haze of pain, quickly glancing away, and knows, even without having to see, that there are a billion questions running around the other Doctor's head. There's nothing he can say to him, and the space-time continuum continues to tear. 

Foreknowledge is indeed a dangerous thing. 

Ten's eyes are begging desperately, he knows, and with a shudder recalls all that awaits his tenth regeneration.   
"Tell me. What happened to them? Jack and-"  And the Eleventh Doctor finally raises his head, and almost as if by accident, looks straight into the gaze of the Tenth Doctor, and there he finally caves, catching him by the chin and kissing him because what can he say to himself? That even now, even with a whole new life and new people and an extensive psychic block between them, it still hurts? Even with everything he's done to try and forget, the scars haven't disappeared? He ignores the sound of shock escaping from that familar mouth and leans forward.   
The pain increases ten-fold, and he gasps, because Ten has deepened what was meant to be a chaste kiss, a fleeting kiss, and he can feel a billion voices screaming in his head as that familiar tongue invades his mouth, and it feels like glorious agony. He can feel all four of their hearts quicken, his pulse beating out a samba. At the same time, he knows Ten is trying his best to slip through his telepathic blocks and find out, just as Ten knows he isn't going to succeed. It's the way they are.  
They are both breathing heavily when they break apart, and Eleven's head is spinning, and he grits his teeth, but Ten's drawing him closer again, and he doesn't think anymore as their lips meet again in agony and ecstasy. 

 

Of course, back in the Tardis after dropping off Clara, he has plenty of time to think, as he fixes the damage done slowly and meticulously, sitting against the railing. The pain is receding quickly as the universe repairs itself, and he sighs quietly as the old girl hums comfortingly in the back of his mind.   
He doesn't really know why he did what he did, but he can feel a warm feeling radiate from the part of his mind dedicated to remembering things that never happened, and he smiles quietly.   
It may have been too little too late, but...   
Then again, maybe not. 


End file.
